A Doctor's Calling
by TheUFCVeteran
Summary: The Eleventh Doctor accidentally crosses his own timeline and ends up encountering his successor, but at what cost? Rating may go up depending on later chapters.
1. The Clock Strikes Eleven

Oxford. 1842. The Doctor dusted off his hands - a job well done. He'd contributed to Scotland Yard's efforts on a murder case involving a middle aged man and a 'big alien thingy'. Well, that was how they all described it, and he would agree. But, it had drawn to a close, and he figured treating himself to a little journey throughout space and time couldn't do him any harm.

As the doors of his TARDIS opened at a click of his fingers, the smell of 'home' hit him. For once, it didn't seem unhappy to see him.

"Happy to see me old girl, eh?"

A low groan radiated from the TARDIS' walls.

His gaze fell for a brief moment, before he looked up with a smile. Definitely still _his_ old girl.

"Right then, where to," he mumbled, grabbing the terminal and browsing the sheer list of locations.

Everything he saw were just places he'd visited before. He wanted somewhere new, somewhere _exciting_. His jaw clenched, he could only draw blanks. Being able to explore space and time _was_ amazing, but living for over one thousand years and owning a time machine which could transport him anywhere in the universe almost instantaneously meant that a lot of the good ones were ticked off. He sat there pouting, hand on chin, wondering just where the hell he could go.

In the end, he got fed up and demanded the TARDIS take him anywhere, as long as it was somewhere he'd never been. Within seconds, the whirr signalling its dematerialisation filled the Doctor's ears.

As his machine touched down on presumably yet undiscovered ground, the Doctor made his way to the doors with a bounce in his step.

Pulling them open revealed... a high street in present day London? Scrunching his nose, he looked back at the TARDIS in confusion.

"I said somewhere I _haven't_ been! Why of all places would you send me to London?!"

The Doctor deducted that there must've been a good reason. His machine liked to mess around with him sometimes but never disobeyed a direct order unless it had to. Keeping that in mind, he started to poke around a little.

He noticed a bus station was housed just up the road. Approaching it, he spotted an enclosed map on the side. It immediately stuck out to him that the map in question wasn't modern. Weathered, crinkled and grimy. Being so old, no 'You Are Here' sign was present, so the only way for the Doctor to find his location was by scouring it. Tracing the map with his finger, he came to an approximate estimation of where he was.

Except, something was wrong. According to the map, just South East of him lay a side street right off the high street, though the Doctor was sure he went by just a minute ago and never saw the marked passage. His brow furrowed, the Doctor dashed back to where he landed and took it slowly from the beginning, retracing his steps to the bus station. He kept his eyes trained to the right, looking for any small gaps between buildings.

Only a few paces later did he notice an opening, surrounded by two brick structures - one beige, the other red. It was like you'd never notice it if you weren't aware of its existence.

"Now THAT is fascinating! It's a trap street!" he said with a grin and clasped hands. No wonder he was so oblivious.

 _I_ _t_ _must've been a misdirection circuit._

Preferring to keep a low profile, he hopped onto the concealed street and quietly continued onward. Houses which seemingly appeared a mesh of the Victorian era and the Middle Ages lined both sides of the street. The damp cobblestone ground only added to the illusion. Oddly enough, the Doctor noticed that there was no natural light after crossing through the entrance. The only thing keeping it lit were some Victorian styled lamps. A bit out of place, but nothing too unfitting. He gathered it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, though. Trap streets never existed for no reason.

Thanks to hyper sensitive ears exclusive to Time Lords, he picked up the distant sound of raised voices arguing - and it was getting louder by the second. With his typical Doctor logic, he convinced himself that the best thing he could do was run towards the source.

Each step he took compounded the idea that what he was doing was a bad plan, yet he never once slowed down. He was the Doctor, he always found a way out of trouble. The voices - _a_ voice started to become remarkably familiar as he closed in, but he brushed it off as his mind playing tricks on him like it often did. Then, throwing his arms out to balance himself while slowing down, he arrived at the origin.

The shadows casted by three people played on the window of the house; one tall and thin, the other two short. He fumbled around to find the door knob, eventually gripping it. He turned it tentatively and felt the entrance start to give way, so he pushed it open just enough to peer through a slight crack. He wouldn't be spotted but he could hear better and even get a little look at whoever was inside if he was lucky.

A rough Scottish tone pierced the air. The Doctor got a quick glimpse at who it belonged to, the man from the shadows. Dressed in a red velvet overcoat with a navy blue shirt underneath, the Doctor saw him holding a woman by the arm while pointing to someone he couldn't see through the gap. The man seemed to be going off on some sort of rant, to the point where the Doctor was almost impressed at how furious he sounded. He caught a few fleeting words as he held his breath and pressed an ear to the door.

"You will do it _now_ , or I will rain hell on you for the rest of time."

And then came that voice. Again. So many bells rung inside the Doctor's head and yet he was unable to think of who it belonged to.

"Doctor, stop talking like that."

Behind the door, he froze. It all suddenly came rushing back to him. It was his _own_ companion, Clara Oswald. She uttered his name - he was sure it was impossible. He had no remaining regenerations and he had certainly never been where he was standing before.

 _No. He is not the Doctor. Impossible._

The woman - the not Clara woman, spoke up.

"You can't," she said, shaking her head.

It didn't phase the man one bit. Instead, he grew even angrier.

"I can do whatever the hell I like. You've read the stories, you know who I am! And in all of that time, did you ever hear anything about anyone who stopped me?"

"I know the Doctor. The Doctor would nev-"

"The Doctor is no longer here, you are stuck with me! And I will end you, and everything you love."

Clara interjected, knowing his rage was misplaced. "Doctor, for god's sake, will you stop?"

"No!", he roared.

"I did this! Do you here me? I did this, this is my fault!"

Still seeing red, he dismissed her plea. "I don't care!"

"Liar. You always care, always have. Your reign of terror will end at the sight of the first crying child and you know it."

"No I don't," he replied.

"I do."

Their gazes met while Clara took a second to compose herself before continuing.

"Listen, if this is the last I ever see of you, please, not like this."

It was the last the Doctor heard of their conversation, opting to find a hiding place and wait it out until they walked out the front door.

* * *

A short period of time elapsed, all he could make out was a melancholic tone consistent with what he'd overheard by the entrance. The Doctor had his hand pressed to a stone cold wall when the unmistakable sound of Clara's boots on the cobblestone caught his attention. A raven cawed in the distance. Onlookers fled inside their homes.

The Doctor silently peered round the edge of the wall, wanting a better view. Clara, _his_ Clara, was dressed with a thick blue jumper and dark skinny jeans, an outfit he'd never seen her don before. Following her out was that man she called the Doctor. He sported slightly unkept hair, a face imprinted with wrinkles and especially harsh eyebrows to cap it off.

The raven cawed again and landed on a nearby shopping stall. Something was happening, the Doctor could sense it. He stepped out and made his presence known.

"Clara," he called.

She was rooted in place, unresponsive. He tried again, louder.

"Clara!"

The figure in the red coat snapped his head to the side, doing a double take at the sight before him.

"No no no, you can't be here. Go, go now!" he shouted, attempting to force the Doctor to leave.

Clara finally turned her head at the commotion. Her jaw dropped at who she saw wrestling with the man she accompanied. _Her_ Doctor. The one who was so enthusiastic and the one who waited three hundred years to see her again on Trenzalore.

"Doctor?"

He was too busy to notice until he managed to land a clean punch on the man's chin, stunning him temporarily. He used that time to sprint towards Clara but unbeknownst to the Doctor, the man he just attacked was a fellow Time Lord and capable of recovering from such a strike much quicker than ordinary humans could and in seconds he was going after the Doctor once more.

Unable to keep a firm grasp on his emotions, the Doctor took his Impossible Girl in his arms, away from danger. Dipping his head, he gazed at Clara. Her face was paralysed with fear and emotion. He couldn't understand why - she was _his_ companion... or so he thought. His name escaped from her mouth once more, this time much weaker.

"Doctor..."

His poor girl was close to breaking. The strange man and his people must've used some form of mind control to make her believe that man was the Doctor. Her lips quivered and her eyes widened, like she was couldn't believe he was alongside her.

He ran his fingers through her hair in a soothing manner. "It's okay, Clara. I've got you."

Out the corner of his eye, he caught the man move closer, slower than before but still approaching.

"If you take one step closer, I will drag you through every torture chamber in the universe three times over. Don't even _think_ about it," he threatened.

Ignoring his order, the man fired back. "Let her go! You are about to make a _grave_ mistake, let her go now!"

In their heated exchange, both failed to notice a final screech from the raven as it swooped onto the street and started flying towards Clara.

Clara placed a hand on the Doctor's chest, capturing his attention.

"It's coming."

"What's coming? You're safe with me, Clara. Nobody is coming to hurt you."

"The raven is coming," she said.

The man quickly filled the Doctor in. "It's a Chronolock. You can't stop it. Now step away!"

 _No. This isn't happening. This can't be happening._

Turning to the side, he spotted the fast incoming raven. The Doctor knew a Chronolock was impossible to remove unless the person who applied the lock later chose to revoke it, but with such little time left it wasn't possible.

His final effort to save Clara would have to be an act of sacrifice - himself. The Doctor gathered the raven killed whatever it touched, Chronolock or not. The lock itself was just a mark of death. He placed Clara behind his back, still in the line of flight but with a body between her and the raven. She tried to resist him, knowing what he was doing, but he proved too strong and kept her in place with a firm grip.

By the time everyone else had realised, it was too late.

A harrowing bellow of desperation loud enough to separate planets came from the man behind him - and finally, he remembered.

 _"The Doctor has a secret he will take to the grave. It is discovered."_

Every fibre of his being screamed at him in regret. How could he forget? This was not his final resting place. Dying in some insignificant trap street would cause a paradox so huge, the universe would rip itself apart. It was Trenzalore. That was where he fell.

Welling up, the Doctor eyed Clara. "Clara, I'm so sorr-"

His speech was cut short, courtesy of the raven. It had gone right through him, snatching his core away. Whilst still maintaining a pulse due to residual regeneration energy keeping him alive, it would not last long and soon, he'd fade away into non-existence not saving the universe, but destroying it. He wanted his final memory to be his greatest mystery, holding Clara's hand loosely as he exhaled a plume of black smoke. He collapsed onto the cold stone, Clara following after him, sobbing.

"Doctor, do something!" she cried.

* * *

The other Doctor was so angry. He was _so_ angry at his younger self. How stupid he was, putting himself on the brink of death when his whole future rested on it. There was only one thing he could do, otherwise he too would disappear from reality and Clara would be left with no Doctor at all. Hurrying over to his younger self, he kneeled down and harnessed his regeneration energy. It was _possible_ to provide dying Time Lords with enough energy to survive, however the ratio of energy required to heal compared to giving someone the ability to heal was extremely disproportionate. River successfully saved him in his now dying incarnation, but in doing so gave up all future regenerations.

It was the only way to save his future. At the same time, he would doom himself to his current form, with no further regenerations according to the rules set in stone by the Time Lords.

"Hang tight. I'm going to give you some regeneration energy so you can survive. It's the only way."

Despite being fatally wounded, the Doctor still protested, albeit very lightly. "No... no, you can't do that-"

Spluttering and with shallow breath, he submitted and awaited his future self's regeneration energy. Eyes shut, he squeezed Clara's hand with all remaining strength. Thankfully, she had not been struck and the Chronolock had vanished. He figured, if he were to die, it would've at least been in an act of heroism.

Golden regeneration particles emitted from the future Doctor's fingertips, followed by a mass of energy. He pressed them to the dying Doctor's chest, shutting his eyes to completely focus his attention on transferring his energy. As the process continued and the energy continued to drain, he sensed himself start to become older and more like his face in age. A creaking back, sore knees, all the things he _didn't_ want to return from his incredibly long stay on Trenzalore where he grew old with his previous face. But he'd deal with it later - in the Doctor's mind, it was this or not existing, and he chose the former.

On the other hand, the face who danced with death felt more and more reinvigorated by the second, his pain disappearing and a smile forming once again.

Stopping only when he witnessed the other Doctor letting off regeneration energy, he stepped back and brought a previously distraught Clara with him. What happened next was a powerful process, not something she experienced the first time round. Although he likely wouldn't change his face, it would require a lengthy period of regeneration to heal the damage sustained from the raven.

It rose through the younger Doctor's body like fire, scorching, but in a good way. Entertaining another regeneration hadn't crossed his mind, ever since Clara told him about Trenzalore he'd started to resign himself to eventually dying like a grumpy old man.

Hands glowing, neck burning, the Doctor picked himself up from the ground with a grunt and locked his gaze with Clara's, reassuring her that he wouldn't change his face. "Another regeneration, just when I was almost ready to die an old man! Don't you worry Clara, I'll still be the same old me on the other side!"

He arched back slightly, raised his arms and let the dam spill over.


	2. Breath

Regeneration energy radiated from his arms and head, illuminating the entire street and blinding Clara. Human eyes weren't very resistant to bright light but Time Lords' were, and as a result, the Doctor looked on impassively as his younger, foolish self mended. He noticed Clara's arm wrapped round his, clinging on like her life hung in the balance. He didn't blame her. So many emotions rushing through her mind at once, it'd tire any human out.

And then, just like a snap of the fingers, it ceased. No longer did the shimmering sound fill the air, and the glow associated with it had faded. Rising from the ashes came a renewed Time Lord, known across space and time as the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness and most importantly, the Doctor. When his name was called, he answered.

Running a finger over Clara's cheek, the Doctor snuggled his nose into her hair. He wasn't usually so intimate, especially in his current incarnation, however he knew what was going to happen next. Clara would open her eyes, see the Doctor she loved so dearly and all her efforts trying to find the man she remembered in his new face would be for naught; they were the same man on the inside, yet it had taken Clara so long to accept him.

It stung - though surprised wouldn't be the word he'd use. The Doctor suspected she never did completely move on, instead locking his previous incarnation away deep in her heart, away from the surface. Often, he felt like a bit of a fool. Always looking out for his Clara, loving her, doing his very best. And what did he get? Nothing quite like the look she gave to his previous face.

An ember of hope still burned that maybe someday they would meet in the TARDIS and he'd see that big old grin again in the same vein as days past. Though, he never felt pushed away - just not fully embraced in her heart.

At times, when he'd be alone in his personal study, he would ponder if it just wasn't meant to be. In lieu of his nagging beliefs, the Doctor refused to accept it and stop trying. One of these days, he'd get through to Clara.

He spoke to her, softly, "Clara, open your eyes."

She followed his voice, the younger Doctor filling her field of vision with that sappy smile of his.

"Doctor, you're alright!" she said, elated and letting out a sigh of relief. Clara hoped he wouldn't change his face, but couldn't be sure. She never could tell what he was planning, sometimes he was like a blank page in a book full of mysteries.

He held his open arms outstretched, "Absolutely fantastic! Come on, give us a hug." After the events that transpired, he couldn't wait to take her in his warm embrace once again, but properly this time.

The Doctor glared at his bow tie loving self, not wanting to give Clara up, gripping her arm tighter when she tried to leap into his grasp. He didn't want to lose her. Not like this.

The younger Doctor noticed, meeting his older self's gaze, neither choosing to back down. No words had to be exchanged - the tension was thick in the air. He stared into his eyes, inching closer with his jaw tightened. "Let. Her. Go."

He held steady in his figure, but softened a little and mulled over the younger Doctor's demands.

"Fine," he huffed, releasing his grip, "but you only get a couple of minutes."

"Oh alright Mister Grumpy, sorry for wanting to see my companion again after I just sacrificed my life for her."

"That's brilliant, but you've done the one thing a time traveller should never do - change a fixed point in time. If you stay here too long the universe will start to fracture, you know that as well as I do!"

"Is that why you didn't try to save her? You were happy to just let her die here, in a bloody sidestreet? What sort of Doctor are you?"

The Doctor, incensed that his younger self could even insinuate such a thing, stepped back. "Do you think I wanted this to happen? That I'd be happy, watching her cry out in pain with her last breath? She took the lock herself to save someone else! I had no idea until she told me, and even then, I couldn't save her. I was this close to declaring war upon this place, to damn them to hell for all eternity, something you'd never think about!" he snarled, furious at the accusation. "Clara insisted I stop, that I shouldn't let anybody else die. She wanted to be brave, just for once her in life. I am more of a Doctor that you'll ever be!"

The man with the bow tie looked down, his lips pursed. "I'm sorry, I nev-"

"Don't be. Shut up and get it over with."

Before getting a chance to even think, Clara jumped into the younger Doctor's hold, pushing her head to his chest. He couldn't help but notice the grin that grew on his younger incarnation's face as he held her close. Turning his back on the pair and propping his head up with an arm, he sighed. A fixed point in time meddled with, all because his younger self probably got a bit bored and wanted to go somewhere new. Idiot.

Enough was enough. The Doctor was going to take Clara, fly away and deal with the consequences. "Time's up," he said after spinning round, "Clara, come on."

She could barely say goodbye; the Doctor yanked her away from his previous incarnation, leaving him staring like a lovestruck fool.

* * *

Just as soon as he came into contact with her again, she was gone. Gone in a moment, like breath on a mirror. In the distance, the two of them walked off back to the TARDIS, the Doctor looking on with a solemn glare. What was it his future self had said? "I was this close to declaring war upon this place."

All these people, and he'd be ready to rain fire for the rest of time... Is that really who I become?

With doubts about his next incarnation's true motives, and knowing Clara was accompanying him, the Doctor launched into a full on sprint, wanting to dig deeper and find out why he would say such a thing. As he reached the passageway leading back onto the high street, he heard the TARDIS start to dematerialise.

Pulling out his sonic screwdriver and pointing it at the other Doctor's time machine, he activated the device hoping to at least delay its take off so he could slip inside before it left completely. He subsiquently realised that even if he did get in, the other Doctor would see him, most likely being in the console room. So, he devised a plan - get Clara to distract him, giving the Doctor some time to dive out the line of sight. He figured acting like a regular civilian would do the trick, just walk up, knock and hope to high hell that Clara was the one who opened it.

Knocking twice, he remained rooted in place. The TARDIS doors blocked out all internal sound, making it impossible for the Doctor to pick up anything. A few seconds passed - he imagined they might've been a little wary, nobody really ever knocked. The door slide clanked around, letting him know someone was unlocking it and gradually, it was pulled back slightly.

Clara. Thanking his lucky stars, the Doctor immediately motioned for her to keep quiet and act normal. Anything out of the ordinary and the other Doctor would pick up on it. He kept his voice low, "Hello again! I need you to do something, please, please tell me you'll do it. For me?"

She was speechless, however there were no objections on her end. A brief moment passed, after which she slowly nodded in agreement and urged him to continue.

"Right at the other end behind you is a little round thing with some brandy inside, open it and get him some, it'll be a distraction and I can hop in," he whispered, absentmindedly fiddling with his screwdriver. The Doctor noticed the cogs whirling in her brain, but she ultimately obliged. Leaving the door open just enough so that the Doctor could peep through, Clara headed back to the centre console, then proceeded down a small flight of stairs to fetch the brandy.

The other Doctor raised his eyebrows at her ability to locate the correct roundel without ever seemingly being told where it was stored. "I know your eyes do that thing but are they really that big where they give you x-ray vision or something? Even I didn't know that was there."

Clara, unable to hold back a chuckle and being the quick thinker that she was, formed a response in no time. "You told me yourself, remember?"

The man lurking in the wings beamed at his companion's ability to be so sharp on the job. Clever girl. The two were engaged in conversation with the older Time Lord's back facing the entrance, handing the Doctor an opportunity to slide inside.

The updated TARDIS interior had him scrunching his nose for a split second, but he kept his head on straight and hastily vaulted over the entrance railings, making sure to land accordingly as to not raise any suspicion. Thankfully, the space beneath the console remained relatively similar to his own vessel, excluding a glass floor - a blessing in the Doctor's eyes. It allowed him to operate under the cover of darkness; he got the impression his following incarnation didn't do much maintenance work on the old girl either.

In his own mind, the hard part was done. He chose to get comfortable and settle in for the long haul, propping his head up against the centre pillar running from the console into the heart of the TARDIS. He'd jot down anything he overheard through the forthcoming days as they rolled on.

The Doctor knew it was a big risk, but he couldn't care less. He had to discover what secrets his future held.


End file.
